


Beatitude and the Beast

by Charles_Rockafellor



Category: La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Brothers Grimm twist, F/M, Happily Ever After, Irony, not Disney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-21
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-24 20:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30077787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charles_Rockafellor/pseuds/Charles_Rockafellor
Summary: A tale retold a thousand times is still as sweet, and Beata, a wretch with no past and no future, pressed into bringing her village's tribute to Óæskilegastur - the Ogre in the hills - finds that friendship, hope, and love can blossom in the most unexpected places.N.B.:Rated M only due to the analysis ofanatomicalconsiderations inFootnote 4; almost all of the rest of it would otherwise rate as T (two allusions' nature could arguably bump it to M). Not smut; you can find that in “When Hermione met Harry”.Though not overtly present in the story, I picture the events as unfolding within a generic 1e or 2.x D&D world (or a mild variant, since Óæskilegastur is smarter and very slightly more civilized than D&D Ogres) with a nod to the Brothers Grimm for the twist. Shrek isn't an inspiration here (not intentionally anyway), though I can see some parallel themes (hard to avoid). If you like this story, then there's a good chance that you'd love Mary Gentle's “Grunts” (I might need to expand on this story with a little “That time I got reincarnated as a Slime”).
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7
Collections: Dice-RPG worlds, Love and romance





	Beatitude and the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by a post](https://www.facebook.com/groups/34478828057/permalink/10159024873193058/) in the Hollow Earth Expedition [game] Facebook group. Strictly, I could have posted this story the next morning, but I prefer to give them a little cooling time for adjustments (plus that would have been a Tuesday, and I aim to upload on Sundays).

Beata was an outcast, her life miserable and wretched, shunned by the villagers of Eottinvöllr, living in a decrepit hovel on the far side of the village's midden heap. She was a sweet soul, embodying the beatitudes that she was named for, but without land, without family or friends, without any physical beauty or superficial charm.

When the villagers decided to seek to pay tribute to the local Ogre in exchange for being left to live their lives, they charged her with the task of bringing the livestock and farmed goods to him.

She didn't argue. She had learned as a child that to do so would only make everything far worse.

Taking hold of the goats' and pigs' and lambs' and calves' leads, she set off with a dull tread, shoulders no less slumped than ever.

The going was easy at first, wending her way along the village path and past the duck pond.

Everything was quiet though.

No children playing or hurling dung at her, no mothers gossiping loudly and staring at her as she passed.

Doors were closed, shutters sealed.

She was accompanied only by those sounds of the animals behind her and such clucking and braying as might come from any of the houses and yards along the way.

It was a small village, barely more than a dozen homes on each side of the road, with perhaps as many more tucked away not far beyond, and so in a matter of minutes, she was quit of them, now following the woodsmen's trail in calm peace, pausing at one point to rest, refreshing herself and the tribute animals at a stream.

Her feet hurt, as they always did, and so she took the opportunity to rinse and soak them, luxuriating in the rare pleasure.

Filling her belly with some few meager handfuls of elderberries, taking care to ensure that they weren't hemlock, she took in as much water as she could, having at least that to stave off her grumbling hunger, then continued onward toward the winding trails that led to the Ogre's hillside.

Óæskilegastur was huge, standing fully ten feet tall, twice the width and breadth of a man alike, a mass of muscles bulging and rippling with every tiniest movement. There was enough fat on him to show that he ate well though, that this was indeed no starving lean-muscled beast before her.

And he could crush her almost without noticing.

He stood there at his cave entrance, leaning on a hickory greatclub taller than she was, and well nigh as thick.

They talked briefly, and he accepted the tribute since it would be easier than making the journey himself to raid the village constantly.

“And why should I not eat you too, waif?” he asked at last.

She'd showed no fear in his presence, no trembling nor acrid sweat, her voice only low and hoarse.

“Do as you will,” she shrugged, “My life is of no consequence nor value.”

Finding neither challenge nor insult in this, he let her leave.

The villagers were surprised to see her alive, laughing over how even the Ogre had found her revolting.

Upon her return to Óæskilegastur's cave on the next week's trip, now bearing rabbits and fowl of all manner, Beata found him distracted, a thorn in his toe that he couldn't reach. Unthinking and unbidden, she reached forth to draw it out for him, and he distrustingly accepted her offer.

As with their prior meeting, they talked some more, and he found her life more miserable than his own – discovering that she even envied him his cave and skins; it was sturdy and wouldn't leak, cool in the summer and warmed easily in the winter. Living as she did on what she could gather untaught of wild plants, often suffering from having eaten the wrong ones, not knowing how to trap, scavenging what she could of the villagers' castoffs, she could see that he'd do well with the village's tithing.

He considered all of these things that she told him, her constant struggle for food (he couldn't be sure, given her species, but she did _look_ particularly scrawny to him, for her height), her ever-present fears, the unspoken aching loneliness that was apparent even to him.

“Eat,” Óæskilegastur commanded, pointing to a carcass, “here be food enough.” **1**

Not believing her own ears, Beata turned her eyes to his in question.

“Eat!” he repeated, almost bellowing.

Scurrying quickly, head bowed, she gathered dry moss, twigs, and larger sticks, as he watched in puzzlement. Bundling the almost straw-like tinder into a ball and rolling it between her hands, she then spread it out slightly to form a thick-walled bowl reminiscent of a bird's nest. Shaving a glossy stick of a deep amber tone, she moved the shavings into the nest, then notched the edge of an almost flat stick, this one without sheen, and placed a third stick – this last as smooth and straight as she could find – end-downward into a slight depression in the face above the notched area. In practiced movements, she rubbed the standing stick rapidly between her hands a few score times with a downward pressure, returning her hands to the top in a flash every dozen strokes or so, smoke issuing from its rounded tip within a minute. **2** Transferring the smoldering ember from the notch to the bird's nest, then blowing gently into it, she soon had a small fire going, taking in its heat as she sprinkled salt scraped from the cave wall onto the cooking meat.

When it was done some twenty minutes later, she offered him some, eating first from the same haunch to show that it wasn't poisoned. He found her effete preparation ridiculous, but relished the results as the flavors burst into his mouth, the juices running over his lips and down his chest.

He laughed at the simple delight of it all, bringing a smile of joy to Beata's face.

Night soon fell, and with the evening chill came a steady drizzle.

As she prepared for her journey home, he held up his hand.

“Stay. This be your fire. You should have the mete of it.”

They talked more, and ate still more, and it wasn't long before she fell asleep curled up against his side, warm and safe and her belly full, each for the first time in her living memory.

After some time, he looked down for a moment, then muttered “Sov godt,” as he drew a fur over her. **3** Beata only turned a little in her sleep, and threw her arm across his thigh.

Come morning, Óæskilegastur awoke to find more food already made, this time only a porridge of mixed grains, but with the tang of goat milk and sweetened with honey and berries.

As he ate, Beata suggested some home improvements that would keep out the draft, having herself already laid out some threshing and bulrushes across the threshold and floor away from the fire, and he followed her instructions tentatively. The entrance was soon covered within and without by large hides that could be drawn easily, the bedding laid out over a simple but functional pallet, and already a homier ambiance held over the whole of it. She had more ideas for collecting the cave's spring water in a tub, a clay stove with a chimney to absorb the heat but remove the smoke, doors and doorframe with a simple portico against inclement weather, a fence to let the tribute animals graze and reproduce within easy reach, a dammed pond for fish...

She stayed there with him for that week, changing things and adding to them as he performed the brute labor with ease, and she cooked them meals that neither had experienced before.

“Your mate will appreciate all of your efforts greatly, I'm sure,” she said, knowing how very much such would mean for her.

“I have no mate and never will,” he replied, not quite harshly, instead almost bitter and lost, “there be no Ogresses in any valley nearby to here.”

At this, she held her tongue a moment, but unguarded let slip a hurried “Then I offer myself to you.”

Aghast at herself, and unsure of her own boldness or the wisdom thereof, she waited for him to smite her for her impertinence, or at best laugh and turn her away in disgust.

But even as he considered her words, she knew that his decision was sealed, her eyes wide and face paling at a _very_ large prominence **4** already tenting his skirt and still growing.

And so it was that they lived happily ever after, and that the villagers of Eottinvöllr acquired an archduchess and were no longer able to offer up sickly animals, wilted greens, rancid dairy, rotting fruit and grains, or low shelf swills to the Ogre in the hills. **5**

**_EPILOGUE: two months later_ **

Rolling off of him, she smiled. Her jaw ached - her nethers ached - but there was an overarching deep satisfaction to it all, and she was happy. He was _hers_ , she was _his_ , and they were _together_.

As they lay there, the rich scent of fermenting porridge drew her attention, but she simply basked in the bed, no need of the blankets, much less her sheepskin greatcoat and kid gloves hung by the door should they feel the need of a stew or a roast. For now, there was still plenty left of the cheesy fish under clarified butter, sent up from the village the previous night, and the morning delivery of assorted breads and fresh blancmange torts with strawberries and drizzled jam and powdered sugar. They had even included a broad selection of rouladen from the butcher.

Grabbing a random bowl of shelled nuts, she set it down between them to plan their day.

**O ~~~ O**  


**Author's Note:**

>  **1** Food: Assuming an average adult male human height of 5'9” (175.26 cm) vs. an Ogre of exactly 10' (304.8 cm), a 1.739(+) scale obtains. This scale applies to his height, width, and breadth, so cube it for volume in comparison to the average man's: he's ~5.26+ times their volume. Increased size might decrease the metabolism a bit.
> 
> If he's a glutton, as Ogres are depicted to be, then he might consume ~3x-4x his actual need (I used to eat that much all of the time, and never gained an ounce), hence rather than merely ~5.26x men's average kcal intake **_need_** , he might instead **_eat_** ~16x-21x.
> 
> The village has 26-32 houses along the roadside. The mean average multi-generational house might reasonably manage ~4-6 adults of food production each. This would mean 148 units (104-192) of food throughput overall (likely ~142). A 10% tithe would give him ~14.8 units (10.4-19.2, likely ~14.2), leaving the villagers with 90% of their food needs being met (assuming supply-side; if boosted to meet demand, then so much the better).
> 
> The numbers must be at least _slightly_ different here and there, since I just don't feel as if he's wrong about having enough food to share, nor do I picture the village as being sorely pressed. To balance things, assume that there are ~60 homes in toto, the remainder being tucked away from the main road.
> 
> **2** Fire: If you're interested in making fire, purifying water, seeking shelter, and finding food, then you might want to hit my playlist of others' [survival technique videos](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZjyGGlpnZzCvvsOH0-tlgA&disable_polymer=true).
> 
> **3** “Sleep good”: In my collective story-world, Jötnar speak something pretty close to modern íslenska (hence his name). He's an Ogre though, so: close, but not quite the same, and so mixes in some norsk.
> 
> **4** Erection: I won't go into smut with this one, sorry – but... the geek in me couldn't leave the numbers alone, so I gave in _that_ much. I already had the numbers for the previous footnote, so this was just a small extension (no pun untended) thereof.
> 
> Again assuming an average adult male human height of 5'9” (175.26 cm) vs. an Ogre of exactly 10' (304.8 cm), that same 1.739(+) scale still obtains.
> 
> The more that I thought about this, the more concerned I grew for Beata (indelicately: assuming that Beata is of avg. adult female human height 5'4” [162.6- cm] – though I haven't nailed down her species as human, vs. Elf or anything else [and her nutrition is established as having been chronically low] – she is, by _scale_ , 0.53̅x of that 5'4”, making her [from his perspective] _effectively_ 2'10.13̅” [87.7- cm] _were he 5'9”_ , and scaling 0.53̅2 gives **~0.284̅x [i.e.: 1/3.5+] cross sectional area** for “ _other_ ” considerations).
> 
> For simplicity, assume that other than scale factor, an Ogre is absolutely identical to a human (clearly not accurate here, since I'm picturing [4e-5e D&D](https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Ogre) in my mind [maybe Palladium, or WHFB with a minor chaos mutation or two, but no Arcana Unearthed _taint_ ]).
> 
> Assume an average erect human penis to be 5.17” (13.1+ cm) length * 4.59” (11.7- cm) circumference (hence 1.46+” diameter, or 3.7+ cm).
> 
> The 1.739(+) linear scale yields an erect Ogre penis of 8.99+” (22.8+ cm) length * 7.98+” (20.3- cm) circumference (so 2.54+” diameter, or 6.5- cm). 😲
> 
> Bottom line comparison: a standard 12 fl oz (354.9- ml) U.S. soda can is 4.83” tall * 2.6” dia.; therefore Óæskilegastur is _probably_ about **_the size of two soda cans piled one atop the other_** (1.5 U.S. pints, 0.75 quarts; 1.25- U.K. pints, 0.71- liters): the numbers indicate an average Ogre erection to be ~0.67-” (1.7- cm) shorter than this, and of ~0.06-” or 1/17-” (1- mm) less width. Needless to say, a certain degree of care _will_ be warranted.
> 
> ...I'm just gonna walk away now.
> 
> **5** The end: This was meant to be a one-shot. Within hours of having written it the first night, I could already see several more scenes. Now I find another episode unfolding itself before my mind's eye, and I haven't yet posted this first one.
> 
> Considering how “[Meat Pies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362857/chapters/58754404)” was meant to be a Troll's slice-of-life one-shot and took off with a life of its own, I think that it could be a blast to see another installment of Beata's and Óæskilegastur's tale. ❤️


End file.
